


full disclosure

by touchtheskye



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crying During Sex, Daisy's voice, F/M, Secret Affair, Tumblr Prompt, johnsonandcoulson, skoulsonfest2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchtheskye/pseuds/touchtheskye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far there hasn’t been much talking.</p><p>(Written for Daisy/Coulson RomFest 2k16. Day 1, prompt: miscommunication.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	full disclosure

Their first kiss comes as a surprise to both of them. Coulson has lost track of how long they’ve been standing here like this, can’t remember what they were talking about, can’t think about anything except how gentle Daisy is, cradling his face in her hands as she slowly traces his tongue with hers.

His office seems unnaturally quiet when she finally pulls away, panting softly.

“I didn’t know,” she whispers. 

She’s staring at him.

Coulson feels suddenly exposed, naked under her gaze, and he wonders if she is somehow using her powers to listen, to sense how hard his heart is pounding against his ribs. After what feels like a full minute of scrutiny she seems to find what she’s looking for, something she likes. She shoves him unceremoniously up against his desk and that’s how it starts.

 

 

 

How they’ve managed to keep it under wraps for so long is anyone’s guess. They’re not subtle or careful, not even close. She left for an early training session the other morning wearing one of his t-shirts. While Joey isn’t the kind of person who would ask, he strikes Coulson as the kind of person who would notice. 

There’s none of the secrecy, no ducking into closets. All of the trappings of an illicit affair are conspicuously absent. They don’t plan their exits and entrances. He figures that either everyone knows and has collectively decided not to comment, or the two of them are being so successfully nonchalant about it that nobody suspects the truth.

Daisy has mastered nonchalant. Sometimes even Coulson wonders if it’s actually happening, or if it’s just him hallucinating vividly for hours on end every night. Even when they’re alone in his office like they were the first time, she never gives any indication of anything other than business as usual. She is always Agent Johnson, right up until the base gets quiet and she lets herself in to his quarters.

So far there hasn’t been much talking, just sex. Part of what makes it seem so unreal is the lack of discussion. It always seems as though they’re picking up in the middle, tearing off each other’s clothes by way of greeting. The only time he hears her voice is during, when she tells him what she wants, what she likes, steadily becoming less and less coherent as he obeys. Even afterwards, when she sleepily strokes his chest and twines her legs with his, they don’t speak. 

As much as he loves to bury his face in her hair, to hold her as she falls asleep, Coulson doesn’t kid himself. There’s a reason for the silence, a very clear message being sent. This is sex, that’s all it is.

And it’s good sex, he’s certainly not complaining. It’s very good, actually, and maybe he doesn’t need the rest of it anymore, the domesticity, the talking.

Distantly, he knows it’s a lie. Of course he wants the rest of it, that’s always been his problem.

 

 

 

He leaves it up to Daisy every time. It gives him a sense of absolution, knowing he's not taking advantage, that she’s in control, she wants this. She has to choose him. She’s the one initiating, pushing it further, asking for more. He always waits, and tonight is no different. 

She kisses him the moment the door closes, starts blindly unbuttoning his shirt as she slants her mouth over his and deepens the kiss with a hot, velvety caress of her tongue. He leads them back towards his bed, discarding clothes haphazardly on the way. 

He waits for her to push him down into the mattress, waits for her to climb on top of him and kiss him until he’s breathless and pleading with her like she usually does, but she doesn’t.

Instead, Daisy hauls him on top of her, muttering encouragement into his skin. It startles him, and he realizes that he’s probably not making a very reassuring face, judging by the way Daisy is blushing uncharacteristically. As beautiful as it is, the flush spreading down and over her bare collarbones, he feels a pang of guilt mixing with his arousal.

Was it selfish of him, expecting Daisy to play the role of seducer every time? He wanted to make her feel like she was in control, but he wonders if all it did was make her feel like he's been indulging her, like he doesn’t want this as much as she does.

She hasn’t said anything yet. This is when she would, this is the part where she brings her lips to his ear and in one hot breath tells him exactly what to do. He wishes she would, wishes she would give him his orders in that low, deliberate tone of voice that makes his entire body throb in time with his pulse.

Experimentally, Coulson murmurs a few words against her throat, lips brushing the sensitive skin under her ear. He tells her how beautiful she is, how much he wants her. His heart squeezes at the way her eyes widen fractionally and her breathing picks up. Encouraged, he rolls his hips against her, grinds his length into her thigh. He savours the ragged moan that escapes her, then brings his lips to her ear.

“Is this what you want?”

“ _Yes_ , god Coulson, _yes–_ ”

Decided, he brushes her hair aside and begins blazing a trail down to her breasts with his tongue and teeth.

 

 

 

It’s no secret that he loves her voice. He’s loved it from the very beginning, since before he’d even met her, back when all he knew about her was the adamant idealism and fierce sense of justice he’d gleaned from her Rising Tide podcasts. 

In bed she uses her voice sparingly, every word uttered in a low and devastatingly effective timbre.

He knows his voice isn’t as arresting as hers, but he’s starting to understand the seductive power in telling Daisy how desirable she is. He’s never talked this much, but she’s writhing as he tells her to lie still, as he kisses his way down to her hipbone, as he whispers her name against sensitive skin like a prayer.

He hooks her legs up over his shoulders, bracing her hips under his hands. A little thrill runs through him at the smoothness of her thighs brushing his face, and he eagerly flattens his tongue against her core. Her hips twitch under his mouth, rising to meet him, and he can’t help the smile pressing into her heat.

Every time she gets close he backs off, breathes gentle kisses along her inner thighs until she settles. He can feel her body tensing under him as the frustration mounts, wanting more each time he denies her.

He starts nursing her clit again and this time her breath stutters. He feels her fingers grab at his scalp and tug insistently on his hair.

The message is clear: she’s losing patience with the teasing and titillating. He moves to position himself at her entrance, rubbing against the slick heat, prolonging the moment.

“Coulson, please.”

“Please..?” Coulson stops, pulls away a little. The role reversal, the novelty of Daisy’s impatient pleading is too irresistible.

“Come on, just–” She reaches down and deftly wraps her fingers around him, squeezing, urging him closer again with a tilt of her hips. He wants to let her, wants to give in so badly, but instead he captures her wrist, brings it to his lips and presses a searing kiss to her pulse.

“Please what, Daisy?”

Daisy makes an annoyed little sound, ducking her head and hiding her face against his chest.

“You know what I want,” a hot murmur against his skin, and then she’s playing dirty, teeth sinking into the delicate muscle of his neck. He’s surprised at his own insistence.

“I want you to tell me.”

“Coulson…” There’s a warning edge in her tone now, authoritative, and it sends a rush of electricity down his spine.

“I need to hear you to say it.” He’s aiming for seductive, confident, but his voice shakes as she continues her assault on his neck.

Daisy drags a single fingernail up along his ribs, gathering herself. He shudders under her touch, slides himself teasingly at her entrance.

“I love you.”

Coulson freezes. It hits him like a punch, knocks the air out of his lungs. 

_“Daisy.”_

“I love you,” she says again, reaching out to stroke the line of his jaw.

Immediately, humiliatingly, his face gets hot and tears spring to his eyes. He wants to tell her everything, wants her to know how relieved he is, how ridiculous he’s been with all his rationalizations about her motives, but he can’t get the words out around the sudden lump in his throat.

 

 

 

Daisy doesn’t push, doesn’t anything but hold him and plant soft kisses on his neck and shoulders. 

He is struck by a bizarre sense of gratitude that it’s Daisy seeing him like this. It’s not the first time he’s cried in front of a partner, not even the first time he’s felt like crying during sex, but it is the first time he’s been too emotional to continue.

“I thought that maybe you weren’t – that this was just –“

“You actually thought this was just sex, huh.” It’s not a question. The look on Daisy’s face is somewhere between affection and exasperation.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers, eyes still red from crying. 

Daisy captures him in a kiss, just as unexpected as their first but this time it’s different; an expression of love and reverence, gentle and warm.

And that’s how it starts.


End file.
